May
by capitol grasshopper
Summary: How she ended up like that she'll never fully understand.


_AN: I'm not sure exactly how this happened but once the idea came up I couldn't shake it off so..._

 **MAY**

Of course she'd follow him to the grave, she knew even before Fury asked her. She knew as soon as she saw those clueless blue eyes open for the first time in weeks and the healing rip on his chest. And she wouldn't be doing it for that one-eyed bastard, she'd be doing it for Phil Coulson. The man is useless without her, she _has_ to protect him.

She will be discreet about it, she promises.

He has to believe he's taking her in, doing her a favor. That's how things work with humans, they are simple beings, easily tricked.

* * *

Life with Phil is not the easiest, she has to admit. Threats everywhere, people coming and going, especially those first few days at home after surgery.

She has to meticulously check every corner and get rid of all the bugs in his house, and make sure the neighbour's dog knows exactly who's in charge, repeatedly. It's exhausting.

But then she catches the softness in his eyes, looking at her stretching in the living room after all the exertion and she doesn't mind. She doesn't mind at all. Somebody has to watch his back and she is committed to the cause.

* * *

She used to hate people. Before Phil.

Now she finds that his nurse Jemma is nice, she lets May stay in the room when she changes his bandages. The delivery boy, Leopold, is ok too.

But mostly people bore her. Besides Phil.

She was too busy trying to understand them while she should have paid more attention to that Grant coming around so often. She foolishly flattered herself believing he was actually interested in her. Oh but when his plan to infiltrate _her_ household was revealed he got what he sought. She just needs to hide her wounds from Phil.

* * *

They're good together. He talks a lot and doesn't mind her silence at all. She just has to blink sometimes to make that sweet smile appear on his face and her own heart skips a beat. Not that it would ever show on the outside, luckily, she has a reputation to maintain.

Most evenings they sit on the sofa and she even lets him pet her absentmindedly as he reads a book or watches a movie. Most nights she curls at his side on the bed and keeps watch, wishing his nightmares away.

* * *

Phil tells her she's his only girl.

That is, until he brings home another brunette, chatty, tall and pretty, with green eyes and a shrill in her voice she instantly hates.

Whenever she's around May is all but _neglected_. Phil forgets her after dinner treats for _four_ days in a row and closes the bedroom door at night to curl up with this Rosalind instead. May is furious.

Jealousy is hot and consuming. It looks as ugly as the shards of all of his potted plants on the kitchen floor and the shreds of her blouse abandoned by the carpet the next morning. And Phil's still unapologetic.

* * *

But when Rosalind stops coming and Phil stops smiling and May can't seem to be able to soothe his anguish anymore, she wishes she could turn back time. She wishes she'd killed that Grant cat when she had the chance, before he crossed Phil's beloved's car at night, before the crash.

She's all he has once again and it doesn't feel like a victory _at all_.

Maybe this revenge will take longer, but it is coming, she promises.

Two months later she watches from her spot on the windowsill as the animal control truck drives that bag of fleas away.

* * *

She should know by now Phil has a huge heart and a soft spot for strays.

Even if she never felt like one when she was part of Fury's feral cats colony by the hospital, now that she's lived with him for a while she has to admit she was one too after all.

And she shouldn't be surprised to see him take home another wild thing one stormy night.

For a human she's small, dirty, smelly and terribly loud. May has her claws out even before she attempts to pick her up or grab her tail.

May hates kids.

* * *

Although there is something in this one's eyes that looks familiar. A gold core dipped in blackness that speaks of alley street days and nights too cold to be looking at the stars instead of a ceiling. But the stars up there are the only things that won't change and the ceilings too unfamiliar to sleep peacefully.

A trapped animal.

Phil tries his best but he's only human.

So May curls up on Skye's bed at night and endures the incessant petting and the tail pulling and the soft nose kisses.

Someone has to make the sacrifice, she thinks regretfully.

* * *

How she ended up like _that_ she'll never fully understand.

She used to be quick on the claws and never back down from a fight, now she purrs at cooed words from either one small human or the other.

At least it is a dignified studded black leather collar she wears and not some kind of velvety pink ribbon like the spoiled Pomeranian next door.

Yes, she might be too comfortable balled on the sofa between her snoring humans, but no one should ever be under the impression she won't claw anyone's eyes out were they to threaten her family.

* * *

 _AN2: for all the beautiful black cats out there and mine right here in particular =P_


End file.
